The Third Finch
by DrowinginRedInk
Summary: There were three of them; not one or two, but three Finches crushed that day, a part of them buried with Jean Graham Finch. Three Finches who lost their love.


There were three of them; not one or two, but three Finches crushed that day, a part of them buried with Jean Graham Finch. Three Finches who lost their love.

Atticus, of course. Anyone could tell you that. He'd been perfectly matched, and so without her, he was no longer whole. He was left with two children, two reminders of her he'd always have around. Two lives to shape by himself, even though the woman who'd shaped so much of him was gone. It was so clear that he felt like just one half of a person, but he'd have to carry the work of two. A wife lost and children to raise without a mother. It was enough to crush anyone.

Jack was no surprise, either. He was never one to let a pretty face and gentle soul go unnoticed, and only the most perfect of women could ever get through to his brother, a man more comforted by books than women. But while Jean and Atticus fit together so well, with quiet, wise demeanors and incalculable abilities to keep composure, Jack was too young, too wild, too much of a bachelor to pretend he could ever have a chance with a woman, much less that one. He'd known he didn't have a chance with her for years, despite how he'd tried, but still, it was a crushing blow, if only to what could have been, and if only because it robbed him of the pleasure of seeing her.

But no one would ever have thought of the outspoken girl from Finch's Landing, who always donned impossibly frilly dresses plastered with bows to hide just how unladylike she felt. She had always been able to play the socialite, the housewife, the mother with ease, but it never mattered to her, because she knew just how wrong she was inside. She'd thrust herself deep into her mother's social circles at a young age, hoping her flaw could be stifled or drowned out completely and replaced with real womanhood. She studied her long family lineage, believing that being aware of all she had to dishonor would scare it away. Anything that might have had a prayer of fixing her one flaw she latched onto and held. But no matter what, she was never unable to shake the feeling that she'd never be happy paired with a man.

Jean was the first woman she could allow herself to look at that way, hidden under the guise of judging her as her brother's match, and if there could only be one woman, at least it was one with a temperament so suited to a Finch. Jean had a wit that Alexandra never possessed, because despite her failings, she'd always been suited to woman's places, good in the parlor and kitchen but nowhere else. She had a personality that ran so free, one that could only belong to a woman who felt she had nothing to hide. And of course, she had a beautiful figure, one that never needed to be masked under skirts and ruffles in the hopes of warding away men- her beauty could be kept open to the world. Jean Graham seemed to be a perfect woman, in every way Alexandra was not.

Seeing Jean standing so close to her while wearing a wedding gown was almost enough to make her wish to leave everything behind and run away to one of the tribes they warned about in her missionary's circles, where such activities ran amuck. What did it matter that she'd already gone to great lengths to hide it, finding a man who'd marry her to earn a claim to the Landing without any expectations of love, and forcing herself to play the part well enough to bear him child? Alexandra would have gladly let her work go to waste, shamed every Finch, and let herself be damned to hell, if she could only have switched spots with her dear brother.

Even Jack's forbidden lust came out in the wash. Atticus had lived with the rumors for years, and it wasn't long after the funeral when he made sure to confront his brother and tell him he held nothing against him. He could understand why another man would have feelings for such a wonderful girl; of course he could. But Alexandra had to pretend to be weeping for the children and their sorry, motherless fate, and to be weeping for her brother, and anything other than Jean herself. She told herself she'd managed to hide it, but she could never truly know. She and Atticus had met eyes only for him to turn away often enough to make her wonder if he suspected.

He was a kind-hearted man, sure, and he'd bore his own crosses in life, but could he really accept a sister with unforgivable desires deep in her heart? Could he even consider that she had them?

He knew her well enough that she could believe he'd caught one of her glances in the wrong direction while Jean was still living, or noticed something off about her sorrow, but as for the rest of Maycomb? They would never dare consider it. She was too good a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a hostess. She spent too much time in church to be forever fallen from the way of God. She hoped that it was enough for heaven, too. She tried to play by its rules, to live the life it was supposed to lead, to ignore her inescapable flaw. She'd never truly given in to temptation, only entertained a few moments of lust. If she was lucky, she'd be able to bury her lust with Jean, knowing that she no longer had an excuse to entertain her feelings. But still, she was the third Finch left mourning, and she had two things to grieve, not one like her brothers: the loss of Jean Graham Finch, of course, but also the loss of the chance to entertain her true desires.


End file.
